Hello, Darling

He decided not to think about it, too afraid of Balthazar knowing anything, and kept with the more pleasant conversation. “Er…” He remembered too late that any conversation at all was not his forte. “Well…what are your plans for later in the week? It’s almost Valentine’s Day. Thinking about anyone?” Oh, that sounded like… Bruce corrected himself. “I- I mean, not like that, I just meant- I just meant as conversation, I didn’t mean like that-“

The summoning spell has Jim irritated more then anything, book flying towards Balthazar, but it never gets to him, the black tendrils shooting up, smacking the book back in Jim’s direction, to which he stands, plucking it up and nearing Balthazar again as the black mass’ efforts to harm Balthazar intensify, creeping up his legs and back. 

"Resisting fuels it you know, makes it want to hurt you more," he purred, reaching out to stroke the black substance almost lovingly. "Honestly you should’ve just turn and went back to the castle. But I suppose that’ll be your mistake to deal with." He reaching in, symbols glowing faintly on his arm as he grabbed Balthazar by the hair, tugging him close, the black tentacles solidifying as they creep up Balthazar’s neck. 

He decided not to think about it, too afraid of Balthazar knowing anything, and kept with the more pleasant conversation. “Er…” He remembered too late that any conversation at all was not his forte. “Well…what are your plans for later in the week? It’s almost Valentine’s Day. Thinking about anyone?” Oh, that sounded like… Bruce corrected himself. “I- I mean, not like that, I just meant- I just meant as conversation, I didn’t mean like that-“

"What the hell do you think I am?" There’s a barely contained scream in the word. "Why would you think I’d want that, I - " His eyes close but he doesn’t relent. "It’s not about the pain, Cas, the pain doesn’t matter, that’s not what you did to me. That’s just the consequence. I’d rip out your heart too, if I thought I had it."

"Because you’re hurting, and I just want you to be better." He says at Balthazar’s question. "I want to help but I don’t know how, apparently all I wish to do is wrong, so," he says plainly, because it is incredibly obvious to him at this point.

As Balthazar leans forward his brows furrow. “Be angry with me,” he says, saying nothing to being shaken. “Be angry Balthazar. I don’t know what you’d have me do, lash out at you to warrant that treatment when it feels I already have” He makes a mental note regardless not to be so pathetic in his actions, but he can’t bring himself to goad Balthazar into action.

"I do, Cas." He leans in a little more, whispers conspiratorially. "I do understand. You felt bad, your rosy view of the universe all torn to pieces, and you thought if only you could save me. But you can't, can't, can't." His fingers shake, tremors running through them. "You can't save me Cas, there are too many smashed up, little, pieces that will never go back together right. You couldn't do that, not even if you cared enough to put me first on your list." He tilts his head, there's a kind of emptiness playing through the blue of his eyes, something with raw edges that are barely hidden. "And no one ever cares enough to do that, not the people who are meant to have to, not the people who I fuck, who fuck me, and certainly Cassy, not you." 

"I told you how you could help, Cas." He’s still shaking, his hands coming up to wrap around his body as it shudders, doubling over for a moment, as he sways. "I told you and you didn’t listen." His own furious tears rim the edges of his eyes, every second breath skipping accidentally, an uneven rhythm of air. "I just wanted someone to be there, that’s all I wanted, Cas, that’s all I wanted. I wanted to have someone to hold me and tell me it would be okay, someone else that could know, so I wouldn’t have to -" His breath falters and the words whisper out of him. "So I wouldn’t have to do this alone anymore. That’s all I wanted, that’s all I asked from you."

"I want to be there for you Balthazar. I do, I swear, I just, I couldn’t bare the thought of this happening to you and doing nothing about it, going on blindly, just pretending everything was okay, tell you it was okay even if it really wasn’t." He frowns, see the hurt and anger in Balthazar and it has him hating himself more.

"What the hell do you think I am?" There's a barely contained scream in the word. "Why would you think I'd want that, I - " His eyes close but he doesn't relent. "It's not about the pain, Cas, the pain doesn't matter, that's not what you did to me. That's just the consequence. I'd rip out your heart too, if I thought I had it."

As Balthazar steps forward he takes a step back before stopping himself. This is Balthazar, angry, bleeding, beaten Balthazar, but still his friend. “No, Balthazar, please, i’m sorry,” he feels tears prick at his eyes for what he’s done. Unintentionally, but still done because of his foolish actions.

"I-I just," he feels words become a struggle to speak. "I just wanted to help. I-I didn’t," he shakes his head, looking him over but wanting to not all the same. "I didn’t mean to do this to you I didn’t I swear I-I thought telling would help I just wanted you to be okay," he knows he’s repeating himself, just wants Balthazar to hear it, to understand, to know it’s truth, even if he hates him.

"I told you how you could help, Cas." He's still shaking, his hands coming up to wrap around his body as it shudders, doubling over for a moment, as he sways. "I told you and you didn't listen." His own furious tears rim the edges of his eyes, every second breath skipping accidentally, an uneven rhythm of air. "I just wanted someone to be there, that's all I wanted, Cas, that's all I wanted. I wanted to have someone to hold me and tell me it would be okay, someone else that could know, so I wouldn't have to -" His breath falters and the words whisper out of him. "So I wouldn't have to do this alone anymore. That's all I wanted, that's all I asked from you."

"I don’t think I’ve asked too much of you, have I, Cas? I think I’ve been kind. When you ran away without warning, after I’d spent all evening comforting you, I let you alone. When you said you wanted to be friends, I let you have that. But I thought, Cas, I thought you were different. Look -" The words are rough, something like a howl barely contained in them. "Look Cas, I don’t trust people, okay? That’s not me, I don’t let them in. I’ve never had my parents, never had friends. But I thought -" An unpleasant smirk twists his lips even though Cas can’t see it. "I thought, I could have you." The words drop into a whisper, something aching and contorted in it before they surge up again. "I thought I could have you and I gave you something of me, because you asked, because I  wanted to so badly, you can’t even imagine.”

He shakes his head, too hard, pain slamming through him, as though to clear it, as though to rid himself of whatever is clutching him, but he can’t.

He can see the pain in Balthazar’s body language and though he’s frightened, he’s worried, he’s ashamed he doesn’t want him anymore hurt then he appears to be.

He moved to Balthazar’s side. “Balthazar, please, w-what happened? I just,” Castiel’s mouth opens and closes uselessly before his shoulders sag and he simply pleads. “You were hurting Balthazar, I hated seeing you that way, I just thought telling the headmistress would do something, would help.”

He lifts a hand, aiming to rest it on the others shoulder. “I am here Balthazar, I am, I just wished for you to be better, to be happy? I,” he trailed off, wincing at the answer he knows he’s probably going to get, “assume it did not turn out that way.”

He heads for the room and a slow creeping feeling starts into him. He doesn’t know exactly what it is, but he feels fear and hesitance and confusion at the fact he’s feeling this. The hall is deathly quiet, and it takes a moment to actually find where Balthazar is, as it’s just as silent.

The smell of blood hits Castiel and for a moment fear shoots through him, not for himself, but for Balthazar, who stands stoic, facing away from the door, and he swears he sees blood on his back, he certainly can smell it.

"Tell me, Cas." He says more to the wall than to the other, doesn’t think he can turn around and look at him right now, his bones seem to have dug roots right into the ground, his muscles too tense. The sound of his voice rings eerie, it comes out hoarse and dark, scraped and raw, hollow like it hasn’t been used in eternities, like he’s dragging it out of somewhere else, somewhere not himself. "What did you think was going to happen? Think we’d all see the error of our ways, did you? Hold hands, perhaps? Hug, a little?" 

There’s icy anger threading through his tone, the taint of hurt he can’t quite keep out skirting in and out of it. 

It’s hurt and anger and it hurts, just hearing it, even if he doesn’t know why. “Balthazar?” He says quietly, afraid. Something he thought he’d never feel with Balthazar.

"I don't think I've asked too much of you, have I, Cas? I think I've been kind. When you ran away without warning, after I'd spent all evening comforting you, I let you alone. When you said you wanted to be friends, I let you have that. But I thought, Cas, I thought you were different. Look -" The words are rough, something like a howl barely contained in them. "Look Cas, I don't trust people, okay? That's not me, I don't let them in. I've never had my parents, never had friends. But I thought -" An unpleasant smirk twists his lips even though Cas can't see it. "I thought, I could have you." The words drop into a whisper, something aching and contorted in it before they surge up again. "I thought I could have you and I gave you something of me, because you asked, because I  wanted to so badly, you can't even imagine."

He shakes his head, too hard, pain slamming through him, as though to clear it, as though to rid himself of whatever is clutching him, but he can't.

He stands silently in the darkening room, the emptiness still echoing with screams. He wants to scream again, now, loudly, until he’s hoarse and his whole body collapses with lack of breath. But it’s stuck in his throat, tearing into the skin there, seeping back into him instead of flying out; consumed into the fury that courses through his veins and numbs him.

Screaming would be ill advised, at any rate, the silencing spells long worn off, and he doesn’t think he has the energy to cast them again, doesn’t think he has the brain power to walk over to the corner where his wand has been tossed and put coherent words together, rather thinks the whole world might fall apart if he does anything but stand here and breathe. His whole body feels bruised, every cell of it. He should have known there was no such thing as safe.

The torches cast dark shadows across the room, their throbbing light is harsh, angry, and it’s just enough to show the chairs that have been smashed all around, the shreds of white and red and pink hearts that had been torn up in the bevy of spells cast, by the magic that lingers dark and cold in the air. It had been decorated for Valentine’s Day, his lip curls, the pain it shoots through him ignored. How positively darling. As though he needs anymore reminder that no one gives a fuck. Well at least the scarlet splatters match the overall theme,wouldn’t want to ruin the appearance, to forget to pretend for a moment like not everything was falling to pieces. 

Every time, every damn time, he forgets how bad it hurts, how it slays right through him, and he hadn’t been ready this time, hadn’t had a moment to go between the frozen smiles with the headmaster to his hair being yanked sharply and his body torn apart.

The anger swells in him, threatens to tear him apart, he shouldn’t have sent that message to Cas telling him where he was and to come, shouldn’t have done it, rationally, he knows that, but he’s feeling self destructive, feeling those urges that had taken him into those grimy little back room taverns and gotten him fucked over in all ways. They swell up inside him, whisper devious, demented, things in his brain, things he craves but hates. He doesn’t think straight when he’s like this, doesn’t think at all, only wants to destroy himself, the fury worse than alcohol, worse than anything. He’s going to regret what he does, but he’s hurtling down the path and there’s no stopping it.

He tries, doesn’t he? He gives and he gives, more than he should, more than he gets back, to everyone, to everything, and in the end, it still ends with him bleeding in the corner. Why should he always hurt? He’d wanted Cas, and that had hurt, and he’d trusted Cas, and that hurts more. And now he thinks maybe he doesn’t want any of it at all, not from Cas, not from anyone, except that he does, but he’s so twisted up right now it all feels the same. 

He’s facing away from the door, staring at the wall, his hair in his face, shoulders hunched, still bleeding welts rip through his shirt and the blood smells rankly in the air. He doesn’t bother to turn around though, doesn’t try to clean it up, just bleed and breathes and waits. 

He heads for the room and a slow creeping feeling starts into him. He doesn’t know exactly what it is, but he feels fear and hesitance and confusion at the fact he’s feeling this. The hall is deathly quiet, and it takes a moment to actually find where Balthazar is, as it’s just as silent.

The smell of blood hits Castiel and for a moment fear shoots through him, not for himself, but for Balthazar, who stands stoic, facing away from the door, and he swears he sees blood on his back, he certainly can smell it.

"Tell me, Cas." He says more to the wall than to the other, doesn't think he can turn around and look at him right now, his bones seem to have dug roots right into the ground, his muscles too tense. The sound of his voice rings eerie, it comes out hoarse and dark, scraped and raw, hollow like it hasn't been used in eternities, like he's dragging it out of somewhere else, somewhere not himself. "What did you think was going to happen? Think we'd all see the error of our ways, did you? Hold hands, perhaps? Hug, a little?" 

There's icy anger threading through his tone, the taint of hurt he can't quite keep out skirting in and out of it. 

God knows, when he couldn’t…or wouldn’t rather, give her a successfully convincing reason why he was in pain, he ended up with exactly nothing to show for his efforts. “Are you sure clumsy quite covers it?” 

The potion in his hand he considers after a moment. “I think one drop is enough, it’ll heal plenty not to get infected and the rest will scab over naturally in a couple of days. You can find something …less corrosive and fix it when you get back to the castle if you want, but I don’t quite think you want to few drops yourself all the way out here.”

God knows, when he couldn't...or wouldn't rather, give her a successfully convincing reason why he was in pain, he ended up with exactly nothing to show for his efforts. "Are you sure clumsy quite covers it?"